Sacrifice
by SophieSaulie
Summary: Sam goes darkside and there is only one thing left for Dean to do. WARNING: Character Death.


**Sacrifice**

Sam hovered over Dean. His eyes were the same shade of golden yellow that Dean had hallucinated when he had contracted the ghost sickness, only this time, he wasn't hallucinating. Dean could feel his heart break from failure.

"Sam…stop," Dean pleaded as he watched Sam toss every hunter that came within feet of them as if flicking flies into the air.

"You're coming with me, " Sam said as he lifted Dean to his feet without touching him.

Dean was then released to walk under his own power, weak and painful as it was. He hobbled unsteadily, both stabbing pain and exhaustion warring with his will to keep standing. He knew that his ribs were cracked if not broken and that he was bleeding from his torso, but he couldn't tell where. Sam had beaten him up and with the exception of a few defensive moves Dean had just taken the blows. Dean knew that Sam wasn't giving him "his best shots". He was holding back to do more damage later. Dean understood. It was the kind of torture he had inflicted in Hell. Seemed to him, he deserved no less from his brother.

Dean followed Sam into a building. Sam waved his hand over it and Dean watched a kind of force field envelope it. All the hunters who tried to crack through it were thrown back by an invisible power. Sam's power. Dean felt broken in more ways than his injuries could show.

"Sit down," Sam commanded softly as he pointed to a chair.

Dean complied, more because he had to rather than because Sam had told him to.

"Sam…" Dean started.

"For once, you're going to listen to me, Dean. I'm not that snot nosed little brother who followed you around anymore."

Dean closed his eyes in pain. He wished he could block out the sinister tinge in Sam's voice.

"No, you're not," Dean said, his voice bitter.

"Shut up!" Sam shouted then slapped Dean across the face.

Dean almost fell out of the chair from the force, but again, he knew Sam had held back. Dean also caught something flash across Sam's face when he had slapped him, a grimace, almost like he had been stung himself. Dean felt his heart lift a little. Maybe Sam wasn't completely gone to him.

"Okay, I'm listening," Dean said.

"First, I want you to admit that I've beaten you, that I've surpassed you, that I'm better than you," Sam said with a smile.

"You've always been better than me, Sammy," Dean said sadly.

"Like HELL! And STOP CALLING ME SAMMY! I've always hated that, but you never listened. You've always thought you were better than me. Dad did too. You were a better hunter, a better son…" Sam said his voice mixed with sadness and hate.

"No, I wasn't, just better at taking orders. That didn't make me better than you," Dean said softly.

Dean watched Sam's face still for a second, but it quickly changed back.

"Yeh, well, that's what Dad wanted, a good little soldier. But now, look at you. You're just like all those other hunters. Someone I can squash like a bug anytime I wanted."

"Is that what you want, Sam?"

"What I want is dominion and Lucifer will help me get it."

Dean couldn't believe he was hearing those words from Sam's mouth.

"Lucifer only cares about one thing, all of us dead or maybe to toy with us for a while. He wants to bring Hell here. Nothing good can come from that."

"Oh yeh, right, you should know what's that like, huh? Maybe I'll get to bring back some of those memories for you, Dean. What Alistair did to you will be a joy ride compared to what I can do. After all, I've got stuff on you nobody has. I can reach you in deep, dark places that'll really hurt you. Or maybe you'll join me, huh? Pick up where you left off?"

Dean looked into Sam's eyes and saw the coldness of the Sam who hated him, who hated their father and how they were raised and who was feeding off of the demon blood fed to him as a baby. The fact that Sam was reminding him of his time in Hell, a time he had yet to come to terms with and that he was trying to entice him to return to it, told him that Sam wasn't himself. His brother would never hurt him that way.

"You know what I don't get? Why Castiel brought you back. Why God thought you were worthy. You're a self-loathing, womanizing drunk. **I** prayed to them. **I** believed in them. Yet they chose to save you."

"Don't know, Sammy, you'd have to ask them. I never believed –"

"That you were deserving, yeh, yeh. Cry me a river. Poor Dean. How I hated hearing that over and over."

Sam then fisted his right hand and squeezed. Dean clenched in pain and grabbed his chest.

"Remember when Dad did this to you? Twisted your heart in your chest, taunted you about how much you do for our dysfunctional family and what a waste it all was. He practically popped it didn't he?"

"Wasn't…Dad," Dean struggled. "Like…this…isn't you."

"You sure about that? This IS me, Dean. In some ways, you can take credit for this. How does that make you feel? That you turned me into this."

Sam then released Dean's heart and Dean collapsed to the floor, breathing raggedly.

"I could kill you so easily," Sam whispered menancingly.

"Go ahead, then. If you're not the Sam I know, then I say, do it. DO IT!" Dean dared, knowing that if Sam took his dare, he'd rather be dead anyway.

He watched Sam's face contort and his eyes blink in shock as if he had been slapped. He saw the yellow gleam leave Sam's eyes.

"I know you're in there, Sammy. I can see it. I can feel it. Fight this monster," Dean pleaded gently.

"I **am** the monster," Sam said, his voice suddenly small and vulnerable.

"No, no, you're not, damn it!" Dean shouted, trying to get through to his brother, doubling over in pain, the price he paid for his emphasis. "Fight this!"

Dean lifted himself from the floor and started walking over. Pain filled his body, but he kept heading towards Sam, hoping Sam wouldn't retract from him.

"You are **not** a monster, Sam. You're not."

Dean, his gaze locked onto Sam's, finally reached his brother. The hand that had been inside his jacket, leading everyone to believe that he was hurting, though truth be told, he wasn't completely faking it, was holding Ruby's knife.

"Remember when we were kids, Sammy? Remember when we cut our fingers and let our blood mix? Huh?" Dean said, never taking his eyes off of Sam.

Sam looked into Dean's eyes and found them welling. He found his own welling up and nodded.

"Trust me, Sammy."

Dean took the knife and cut himself across his palm then with his waning strength, he reached for Sam's hand and Sam didn't resist him. He then cut Sam's palm. Sam hissed, feeling the spell on it burning his flesh. His eyes flashed yellow, but Sam held on.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said his voice full of emotion, but a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Dean then grabbed Sam's hand into his and let their pooling bloodied palms mix. He began to recite some Latin words and Dean felt Sam resisting, wanting to retract his hand, but he held on as tight as he could. He watched the yellow in Sam's eyes return, but then begin to fade again.

"I'll kill you, I swear I will!" Sam said as the demon, but there was no conviction behind it, only pain from the cut from Ruby's knife and the sting from Dean's blood merging with his, making him finally whole again.

Once Dean finished the Latin, he looked into Sam's face again and began to recite in English.

"My blood is your blood. We are one with blood and soul. Evil cannot break us. Evil will never break us."

Dean watched the black mist ooze out of Sam's mouth and pool around his legs. Dean felt himself losing consciousness, but fought it back so that he could be sure that Sam was back. The mist cleared as well as Sam's eyes from the yellow tinge.

"Dean?" Sam said, looking momentarily confused.

Dean smiled, the pain fading, but darkness replacing it. Sam was slowly becoming distant, but he saw Sam's face, unmarred by demon influence and finally decided to let go of the tether keeping him there.

"Welcome back, Sammy. I…knew…you had it…in you," Dean breathed heavily.

Dean sank to the floor and went still.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled as he bent down to check on his brother.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, he saw Castiel, his face grave and his eyes welling.

"Help him please!" Sam pleaded.

Castiel could only shake his head. Sam then grabbed at Dean and held him, sobbing.

"Damn it, Dean. What did you do?"

"He sacrificed himself for you," Castiel said. "He released your demon blood and replaced it with his own. He also gave his soul for yours. You've been cleansed, Sam."

"No, he's not in Hell, is he? Please tell me he didn't -" Sam said, dismay and despair in his voice.

"No, Sam. Dean didn't deal his soul away. He offered it willingly to save your soul, to keep yours intact. It was the only way to keep you from falling into darkness."

Sam looked at his brother's limp body in his arms, a small smile on Dean's face and could only sigh.

"I don't know what to do…" Sam said absently.

"Fight. We have much work to do. Dean did what needed to be done. He saved you."

"I don't now if I have it in me without Dean."

"Then Dean's sacrifice was for nothing. Do you really want to waste what he's done, what he cared most about?"

Sam looked into Castiel's determined face and realized that he was right.

"No, no, I don't."

"Then we fight for Dean. I think he would be pleased," Castiel said.

Sam could only smile at Castiel's simple assessment.

"Yeh, I think he would."

**FIN. Thanks for reading and reviews are always welcome. I'm too much of a DeanGirl to continue without him in it so there won't be a sequel. Forgive me.**


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